


untitled

by Siria



Category: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-09
Updated: 2010-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riley was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this salt in the salt cellar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/46606) by [Siria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria). 



> Time stamp fic for my fic, 'this salt in the salt cellar.'

**1.** Riley was wrong. The first thing Jesse ate when she travelled back was a large bowl full of noodles—not from a fancy hotel but from a little hole-in-the-wall place where the cooks spoke Cantonese so rapidly that Jesse couldn't really understand them. The noodles weren't really much like Jesse remembered her grandmother making them—better, for one thing; she had to admit that her _ma ma_ wasn't such a good cook—but she finished the whole bowl while it was still hot enough to scald her tongue, and then went back for seconds.

 **2.** Jesse doesn't read _People_ or _Us Weekly_ or _Cosmopolitan_ because she gives a crap about any of the people inside it. She doesn't know who Paris Hilton or Nicole Richie are, has only a vague notion of who Julia Roberts is from the plots of movies recounted as part nostalgic entertainment, part history lesson down in the tunnels. What she's greedy for is their lives—lives spent under clear blue skies wearing elegant clothing, smiling and laughing and never knowing what it was to have gun calluses on your fingers. Sometimes she reads the magazines from cover to cover; sometimes she rips them in half and throws them in the trash bin. Doesn't really help, though.

 **3.** Between the time Riley starts to puke and the porter comes up to take away the trolley, Jesse eats some fruit and a couple of mouthfuls of roast chicken, stashes away a few sandwiches for later. It really is a waste to give away good food, not when you never really know where the next meal will come from. Jesse learned long ago not to rely on tomorrow.


End file.
